Will you dance with me? (OtaYuri FanFic)
by Khazel
Summary: Two years after winning the gold medal at the Grand Prix Final in 2016, Yuri Plisetsky has two goals: break Viktor Nikiforov's world record and win six gold medals in a row AND forget about his friend Otabek Altin. None of them are easy to get.
1. Gone

I never knew for sure what got into me.

He was different, I guess. When he looked at me it was as if time stopped, although sometimes it seemed as if it were going backwards.

As if we could travel in time.

Back, to that summer at Yakov's camp for skaters, a summer that is nothing more than a blur for me.

Back, to that unexpected ride on a cool motorbike through the streets in Barcelona.

Honestly I don't know which one I prefer.

Well, right now... I'd just die if he was next to me, if I could have the chance to look into those hazelnut eyes once more.

But I guess that is too much to ask.

Like everyone else, he decided to leave me. He disappeared without further explanations in a plane to his homeland, where he was not yet a hero, but the odds were with him, and one day, he'll be so. Kazakhstan's hero.

I never knew what got into me because I had never, never, looked for someone after a competition. Never so frantically. Never with a lump in my throat, knowing deep inside that I wasn't going to find him.

I had won. I was the hero. The gold medal was lying in my suitcase, with the rest of my clothes, my skates, everything. My suit from last night, the one I had worn to the banquet.

And a flower.

I needed to find the owner of that flower, I needed to see his stoic visage once more.

The hotel was big, and three floors had been set aside for the skaters, male and female, and their coaches. I couldn't even see the fancy decorations, the frames on the walls, the tapestry. I was flying through the hallway and darted upstairs.

"Hey Yurio!"

No, not now. Not him. Anyone but him.

"OUT OF MY WAY, PIG!" The words found their way out of my mind before my mind was even aware of forming them. I shoved Yuuri Katsuki out of my way, because; of course, he wasn't going to budge. He gasped and I ignored him.

"But..."

I felt his hand close around my forearm as I was about to run off and he yanked me backwards, against him.

My face was already red with anger by that time. The choking feeling of missing my last chance to talk to Otabek in ages was fading away. All thanks to him. To the man who had been in my way for the past year.

"I said -" I pulled him down to my level to talk only inches away from his face, so he wouldn't miss a single word. "Out of my way, pig".

"But t-there's something -"

There came the stuttering. How could someone so old act like such a child.

I grunted something, I don't even remember what, and with a quick move I shoved him back again, getting him to release me. Finally.

I hopped upstairs, out of breath by the time I reached the floor where the Kazakhs were staying. All of a sudden my feet were glued to the carpet.

It was there, in the middle of the hallway. Only some steps away. I could do it. Or could I?

I don't remember walking the distance to his room.

I do remember my hand on the door. Knocking twice, shakily.

The room still smelled like him. He had been there. Not so long ago. But he wasn't there any more.

I was late. And although my mind instantly blamed the clumsy pork cutlet bowl, I knew he wasn't the culprit. It had been me. Me, disregarding Otabek's invitation. Rejecting him.

Had I hurt him?

Did he hate me?

I scanned the room for a note, something that he might have left behind. An excuse that could make me call him.

My phone was on my hand. Should I call him?

Or check Instagram?

There he was. Checking in at El Prat airport.

Half an hour ago. While I was putting my gold medal inside my suitcase.

I wished his eyes could make me go back in time.

To the banquet last night.

To our first and last dance.


	2. Back

"More than winning gold it looks like you have ended up last".

Mila ruffled my hair and I aimed a bite at her. All she did was giggle and flop down on her seat behind mine on the plane.

I grumbled and put my hair back in place. I wasn't in the mood. I simply wasn't.

"I know why~~ Because the cute Kazakh boy was missing, huh...?"

Oh, she certainly knows how to pull my strings.

"Shut up, hag!" I turned to punch her between my seat and Yakov's, but my coach stopped me, pushing me mercilessly against the window.

"What's with you, old man?!"

There went my temper. So like me... I can't control it. Well, I can, if no one pushes my buttons. But my team is made out of a bunch of experts on the matter.

I was on the brink of tears but I wasn't going to give in. As Yakov didn't answer back, giving me the chance to blow off some steam shouting at thim, I only had an option left: hide my face in my hood, put my feet up on the seat in front of me and look for a shelter in some loud music blasting through my earphones.

Lock the world out.

Think about that idiot.

 _THAT_ idiot. He kept slipping into my mind and I had to keep pushing him away.

He left. Without saying goodbye.

Well, partially.

Because there was a note in his room. A note I found because I had a meltdown and started to trash the room, and when I flipped the drawers, there it was.

A note I read and ripped into pieces, then let fly out of the window.

Of course I was already regretting that on the plane. But there was nothing I could do, right?

Well, I could forget. I could forget every word he had written, in that rather messy handwriting. Every line looked strong and thoroughly thought, just like he was -

Like I thought he was. Did I even know him?

Stupid sad songs playing through my earphones. Next. Next. Oh my God, NEXT. Does literally no one make music that is _NOT_ about love?

What the hell do I know about love?

Nothing. But I thought he'd teach me something.

Some Eros. I'm tired of Agape.

The lady on the seat in front of me got tired of my constant kicking her seat and turned around to tell me off. My glare didn't dissuade her, but I couldn't hear her through my -finally neutral, not lovey dovey - loud music. Besides, I was pretty sure she was yelling in Spanish.

Better pretend to be asleep for the rest of the journey...

Russia had been always cold, but the days before Christmas 2016 seemed colder. Perhaps I hadn't noticed before, and every winter had been equally freezing. Who knows.

I just waved at my teammates. They'd be taking another plane to St Petersburg, but I was going to stay in Moscow. With my family. Shouldn't I be jumpig around with joy?

I was returning home with a gold medal and a nice amount of money to make them all happy. Enough money for my whims, theirs, and a lot of warm food. It was going to be a memorable Christmas.

'Feel happy, goddammit' - I told myself as I watched the others carry their luggage to the next terminal.

'Why the hell can't you feel happy, you idiot?' I kept scolding myself as I scrolled down my Instagram timeline. No updates from that moron. Why did I even care? And why did I keep looking for them, anyway?

FORGET

"Yuratchka!"

Grandpa. I smiled, unexpectedly. My Agape was still alive, although someone had killed my Eros.

I hugged him carefully and buried my face in his chest.

"We are so proud of you, Yuratchka".

His voice was deep and caring. A solace for all my tension. And I let everything go. I cried all the tension out: the fatigue, the pressure, the pain, the heartache. My bag dropped by my side with a thud, but I could only cling to him. Could he understand without me talking?

How grateful I was that he'd never judged me. That he had supported me for my passion, not for the money I could bring home with my prizes, so unlike other members of my family. The squeeze I felt on both my shoulders told me that he did, in a way.

"It's been a tough one, huh?" He had crouched to my level and I could only feel sorry as I wiped hot tears off my eyes with my sleeve. I nodded.

"Well, it's over now. Take that bag and let's go celebrate".

I smiled through my tears and did as I was told. He took my hand, as if I was a toddler. For the time being, I couldn't care less. If there was a place where I could stop pretending I was an adult trapped in a teenager body, it was there. And with him.

Nonetheless, I kept my gaze down, for the tears wouldn't stop falling.

The cold bit my cheeks and I shivered.

I should just enjoy that. I had only a week off before returning to St Petersburg and resuming the trainings.

And the pressure, the fatigue, the pain and the heartache.


	3. The Banquet

I always thought that attending the mandatory banquet after a competition with a gold medal around your neck would feel totally different.

But it didn't. I hated it all the same.

I had to wear a tie and a suit. No leopard prints, but that was actually the least of my problems.

My first problem was to control my nervousness, because of Kazakh boy's whispered promise after I left the podium earlier that afternoon.

 _"I'm going to sweep you off your feet tonight, Yuri"._

What did that even mean?

What did I want it to mean? He had just asked me to be his friend, only.. what, twenty-four hours ago? Do friends sweep other friends off their feet? How? Dancing? By giving them a big surprise? Playing some kind of game?

My heart was beating fast and it is so hard not to sweat in a suit.

I could as well choke in that stupid blue tie.

"Stop tugging at your tie, Yurio".

How long had I been standing there? How did I get into the elevator? I took a deep breath and preapared my trademark glare for Mila.

"What did you just call me?"

She giggled nervously.

"Uh... Sorry. My bad".

I rolled my eyes and tugged on my tie again. I didn't take a single minute to notice her fancy dark red dress. But I did later, so now I can say she looked really pretty, especially since her hair and her dress made such a cute combination. (This was pointed out to me by... uh... someone else. Not me. I don't care about that stuff. Duh).

I honestly think I arrived to the ball room because Mila was walking by my side and I merely followed. If she hadn't found me in the elevator, I would have probably ended up wandering the building hallways, without purpose or motivation.

But there I was, surrounded by so many people I can't remember, most of them willing to shake my hand, pat my back, congratulate me on my gold medal.

A total blur. And my eyes wandered off, looking for someone to get me out of there and let me change back into comfortable clothes.

I knew somehow that he had the ability to appear out of nowhere, when needed, like he had done when he rescued me from those crazy chicks called "Yuri's Angels". That's apparently what heroes do, they turn up when they feel someone innocent is in danger.

And I am an innocent soul. :3

"I'm sure you're hungry" He said quietly, without even looking at me. He didn't touch me. He could have been talking to anyone. But I knew his words were for me, so I pulled up a sly smile.

"You're so intuitive".

Have I ever seen him smile? Yeah, maybe a couple times, from the corner of my eye. Oh, and at that banquet. But his smiles are so small and... shy? you must be really looking for them to notice any change in his features.

Together with the food came the drinks. I wasn't allowed to drink alcohol at that time - I mean, legally, of course. But... I had tried it anyway. My grandpa had let me sip from his vodka since I can remember, only once at a time, only very slightly.

And last year, when I was still a junior...

Last year had been unexpectedly different, with Katsuki getting all drunk and challenging (I mean, dragging) me to a dance off. I also drank then, not as much as he did, of course, but since I wasn't used to it, anything over a glass of wine got me tipsy.

"Wanna dance?"

I choked and started coughing, spitting out the white wine.

EMBARRASSING MYSELF.

He raised his eyebrows and took my hand.

He took my hand and all I did was look down at it with a frown, my brain working hard to figure out what that meant.

"Uh... dance...?"

I looked around. No one was dancing, although Chris Giacometti seemed to be looking for someone to ask him to pole dance. Do it one year, set a curse. Chris would be always willing to get his clothes off and show off.

I spotted the pig and Viktor talking quietly in a corner. The Japanese was giggling covering his mouth, and Viktor was leaning against the wall, his lips touching the other's cheek. Eventually, I knew I had to stop scanning the room and look back into Otabek's eyes, make a decision and...

What the hell, maybe my heart would explode if I said yes and then this weird feeling would be over and I could get back to live my life.

"No one's dancing".

That's me. Thinking one thing and saying another.

Otabek shrugged and gave my hand a light squeeze.

"I never thought you were the kind of person who'd be influenced by what others did".

That stupid Kazakh knew how to pull my strings. My grip on his hand became firm and I pulled him close, just to see if his face would change, by my sudden move and because I stood slightly on my tiptoes to almost press my nose against his. It didn't. He kept looking at me with the same neutral expression that should have made me slap him but instead made me wanna cry.

"You want to dance, Altin? Fine. Let's dance".

And I turned away from him, tugged on his hand and led him to the middle of the room. There, I was planning to let go of him and dance like I danced the previous year.

But he had other plans.

How did we get to this - my mind was racing and I couldn't look at him in the eyes.

No, the question was how did HE get me into this. Because then it hit me. As I felt his hands on my waist and mine were placed lifelessly on his shoulders, it hit me. I looked at him, puzzled.

"You brought your bike all the way from Almaty to Barcelona".

He nodded, looking ahead.

"You brought it so you could hang out with me?"

"I thought you'd like it"

"You thought of ME when you packed your stupid bike?"

"I didn't pack it, I -"

"You planned this?"

"I wanted to talk to you". His hazelnut eyes met mine; my eyes and my red cheeks.

"I've been waiting to talk to you for five years, Yuri".

I opened and closed my mouth several times, but no words came out. The time had somehow stopped and the only thing left for me to do was bury my face in his chest, so my increasing blush wouldn't be seen. I knew I couldn't escape his embrace, for his hands had tightened his grip on me. I was pretty sure everyone was looking at us and when my phone buzzed in my pocket I had no doubt it was a photo of us. Sent by Mila probably; that annoying granny wouldn't take her eyes off me. Let's admit it, she doesn't have a life.

His voice brought me back to reality and I secretely wished it hadn't.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you idiot".

I felt his nod and a groan escaped my lips when he pulled away.

"Why don't we go out huh?"

We somehow avoided the crowd and ended up in the small garden outside the ball room. From there we could still hear the sound of quiet music and conversations. The air was cool, but pleasant, and although my lungs seemed to burn with every breath I took I felt much better there. His right hand slipped into my left and before I could understand how it happened, he had put a small flower behind my ear, pushing my hair back.

I gave him a questioning look but didn't say a single word; I knew my voice would come out shaky. He just looked at me with that calm expression, as if everything was as normal as having breakfast after getting up.

"Look, I kow I asked you to be friends but..."

"Yeah" I cut him off quickly "Friends".

He nodded, but I could tell he was disappointed. How? I don't know, for his expression didn't change a bit. Perhaps it was the air he let out, his quick glance to the floor.

"Friends" He repeated.

But then he shifted and I froze.

It was quick.

His fingertips on my cheek burnt my skin. I parted my lips to protest but they were sealed by his breath, and his skin against mine.

It lasted only three seconds, but I could feel his lips on mine for much longer. Not the rest of my body though. I had gone numb. Only my lips were beating as if my heart was inhabiting them.

Friends don't do that - was the only thought that kept coming to my mind.

However, the first thing I did when I could move again was hug his neck.

"Beka..." The name came out so naturally. He didn't even flinch.

"Yes?"

Nothing. Actually, nothing. I just wanted to call his name. And to giggle. So I did the last. He just held me.

"Want to go back inside?"

I didn't.

But we had to.


	4. Season 2018

I land the quad flip flawlessly, and th sound of the skates hitting the ice echo in the empty rink.

I'm alone, like always.

Two years ago, when I was preparing my senior debut, I was almost never alone.

There was Lilia, nagging about me becoming a prima ballerina.

There was Yakov, yelling at Georgi, missing his Vitya, pushing me beyond my limits.

There was Mila, teasing me over and over again.

I'm still the youngest, but I'm seventeen now and I know where I stand, what are my possibilities and what I want to achieve.

I want to break Viktor Nikiforov's world record. I can win six gold medals in a row.

And I already have two, so it's not impossible.

Two gold medals and longer hair, obligatory tied up in a ponytail for my trainings and almost all my performances.

However, I don't have a new life. Same coaches, same rink mates. Only maybe... Some more independence. Timetables have to be followed, but I can make my own decisions now. I can skate to the music I choose and I can decide whehter my performances are more feminine or manly.

The only secret I keep... Is that I still look desperately for Altin's name in every competition. Something's off with him, his level has decreased since the finals of 2016. He never made it to the finals in 2017, and my heart was pleading for him to make it this year. There are only a few weeks left until the Grand Prix Series start again and I have to focus to surpass my own limit.

Another quad flip. Not so perfect. I grumble under my breath and almost hit the ice because the stupid Viktor decides to cheer at the top of his lungs and nearly gives me a heart attack.

His voice is still echoing in the rink, and the perfect image I had summoned of Otabek disappears into thin air. He isn't there, he never was. He never will be.

Instead, I have to face that arrogant "legend" and his everlasting fiancé.

The pig is there, very well. Smiling shyly like he is out of place - because, guess what, he is.

"Get lost!" I yell at them as I take my initial pose again to go over the choreography for the nth time that day.

Viktor laughs but I don't look at him.

"Oi, Yurio! We want to take you out to eat! We have exciting news!"

Can I just take my skates off and throw them at them? One at each, blades pointing, and chop their heads off? Shame they'll have enough time to dodge.

"Don't call me that!" How many times have I told them? Urgh.

He laughs again, and this time, his boyfriend imitates him. There goes my concentration. Down the drain. Just because the great Viktor Nikiforov wants to, I have to end my training and go to eat with him and the pig. Because he is the most important person in the world, apparently.

"Come on! You need a break anyway!"

I untie my ponytail and let the hair cover my face partially.

"Fine, wait outside".

Exciting news... As if I care. I would like to have exciting news, though. I check my phone again, and, like always, open my text messages. That blue tick indicates that he read my text. He read my text two years ago and never replied, and I am a stubborn idiot and check it every day. I didn't find the courage to delete the thread, and I know it by heart.

13 Dec 2016

[23:45] _ **I enjoyed the dance, Yura.**_

[23:47] _XD I did too. You are a great dancer. See you tomorrow?_

[23:47] _ **Ofc. You didn't want to sleep with me so... ;)**_

[23:48] _Beeekaaaaaa! Don't push it. Sleep well._

[23:57] _**3**_

14 Dec 2016

[10:01] _You didn't wait for me. What's that note supposed to mean?_

[11:35] _ARE YOU FUCKING PLAYING WITH ME?_

16 Dec 2016

[03:32] _You are an idiot, that's what you are_.

He saw it.

I sigh and grip on the phone tightly, closing my eyes. I feel an arm on my shoulders and the scent of perfume and flowers tickles my nose. My instincts strike and I shove the owner of that arm with all I have.

"Leave me alone, Viktor! Let's just go for that meal and leave me to train!"

He puts on a straight face, as if he is pondering my demand. A demand that only comes from his childish whim of preventing me to keep practicing.

"Sorry, I must have gotten it all wrong" He says calmly. "For a second I thought you looked sad".

Tch.

Sad. I'm not sad about those stupid text messages. But what a suprise, Nikiforov the Great cannot read emotions. In ths field, the pig is his lifesaver.

"Leave him alone, Viktor". His brown eyes are sort of caring when they set on mine and I just huff and decide to zone out. Let them have their giggles and pushing each other games while we walk to the restaurant. Two years and they are still cheesy, engaged and stuck. Why doesn't time go by...?

I hope the good news is that they are going to get married.

Because I seriously think I won't be able to put up with them for much longer with that attitude.

I sit in front of them, and they share a menu, even though there are three of them on the table. I hide behind mine so I don't have to see Viktor's arm around the pig and their stupid blush.

He has a big mouth the Russian legend, doesn't he.

"You ready for the big news, Yurio?"

"No"

"Viktor! We agreed to tell him when we are done eating!"

"Aw, but I can't wait anymore"

"I said I don't care about your stupid news".

"But we found you a partner for pair skating!"

"VIKTOR!"

"Look, he's excited!"

Me? Excited? I'm fuming, as you can tell by my red face, my scowl and my clenched fists as I get up to kill Viktor. Or both of them. For meddling in my life. I never EVER said I wanted to pair skate.

The pig does know I'm not excited, that's why he puts a hand on his lover's chest, protectively.

"Y-Yurio, listen, we... I mean... he..."

Viktor pouts.

"But Otabek said you two had already discussed that".

I freeze.

Ota...who?


	5. I'm not a girl

_Yuri,_

 _This is old fashioned but here I go. I know I could text you, and that probably would bring you up to my room faster. But I'm not sure that's what I want. I hate saying goodbye, and I'm not sure I can pull it off. It was hard for me to say goodbye five years ago, but this time, it can be hard for you as well, and that is the part I'm not sure I'm going to be able to endure._

 _Forgive me, Yuri. What I did was selfish. I didn't think of the consequences. We both have complicated lives, and difficult careers. St Petersburg and Almaty aren't all that close. Seeing you in competitions won't be enough for me. You are meant to make history and I won't forgive myself if I know I'm the one holding you back._

 _Bare in mind that I'm not going to stop thinking about a way to go back to you. It has been my main thought during five years and nothing in this world will change that. I've come so far and I'm not stopping here. One day I'll come up with the solution and I hope you won't be too mad or too upset when the time comes, and I can take you for a ride._

 _Or dancing._

 _Will you dance with me again when that time comes, Yuri?_

 _I really hope so._

 _-Otabek Altin_

That's my life.

I train because I have a very difficult career. I train in the mornings with the rest: with Mila, Georgi, Viktor and his fiancé. They start at nine, I'm usually at the rink by seven thirty. In the afternoons, I train alone, because I have such a good talent I'm forced to live alone the rest of my life, apparently.

Then I see those two. Viktor and the pig. Two idiots that can easily combine their love life and their skating. Two simple souls from different worlds who were able to make their lives merge at some point, so they can be together and still skate - professionally.

I've been considering myself more intelligent than them for two years - since I got to know Katsuki. When Otabek came into my life, I immediately put him above both of them. And yet... Neither of us is more intelligent than they are. We haven't achieved all that. And by this time, I am pretty sure I am not giving up anything I have now for that Kazakh jerk. Tch. Who does he think he is.

"You look upset" I ignore Mila's pout.

I know she's saying that because my landing a Lutz is as horrible as a nine year old's.

"I'm not".

"Ugh come on, Yuri, you can talk to me. Is it because of that pair skating thing?"

I stop to glare at her.

This rink is worse than a talkshow, I swear. You can't take a single step without the gang knowing. I use the break to redo my ponytail; my eyes on her. She will keep talking, she always does. Besides, I have nothing more to say.

"You know..." There she goes. "It's not actually a bad idea. Apparently the boy phoned Yakov. He... He actually asked if I... was available".

I freeze. Yes, partly because of her words. Mainly because of her blush. Why is she blushing?

"Why the fuck are you blushing"

She moves her hands dramatically, backing up.

"I - I am not!"

"Yes you are, you bitch. Why. Are you. Blushing!"

I've come near her, like so many other times. She's no longer taller than me. She's no longer more muscular than I am. Puberty hit me when I was about to turn 16, and I am no longer that delicate little boy I used to be. I can't be a graceful prima ballerina any more. I need another way to surprise the audience.

I need my Eros.

She holds her hands in front of her, as if she actually feared I could hurt her.

"B-Because he asked if I was available, okay?!" She averts her eyes, oooh she knows she's guilty. She knows she shouldn't be blushing.

"Viktor and Yuuri said he wanted to pair skate with me".

And then, right when I say it, it hits me.

He can't fucking pair skate with me.

I'm not a girl.

"I'M GONNA KILL THAT BASTARD!"

To hell with practice. Viktor Nikiforov has the special ability to ruin my training sessions, being or not being there.

When he opens the door after I've been banging at it and shouting his name for like three minutes, he's only wearing black boxers.

"Put something on, Viktor, goddammit" I snap at him, shoving him back inside his apartment. I don't even bother to look around, if he's dressed like that I don't want to see where his lover is.

He merely giggles.

"I have the heating on, don't worry".

I turn to him, my arms crossed, as he closes the door.

"You lied to me, you jerk".

He blinks, visibly surprised.

"Uh? I did?"

"YES!" I wish he was wearing a shirt so I could yank him closer to me.

"You lied!" I have to be satisfied only by poking his chest and see how his happy visage turns into an annoyed one. "You said Otabek wanted to pair skate with me"

"Yeah... I also said you two had discussed it".

"Well, we never did!"

Viktor smiles, so sincerely and so simply I just want to slap him.

"Shouldn't you discuss that with him and not with me?"

"Viktor...?" Katsuki's tired voice comes from the bedroom. "What is going on?"

He appears on the doorway, also wearing boxers, although he has had the decency to have a sweater on as well. I cover my eyes and flop on the couch. I don't wanna know what I interrupted.

"You guys are disgusting".

Plop.

Plop.

They are sitting with me, one on each side.

"What's the real problem here, Yurio? That I lied to you?" Viktor's voice is in my ear.

"No". Shit. They are going to make me give in.

"Then what is?" The pig puts an arm around me, and I have no idea why, but I don't make him take it off me.

"He asked about Mila being his partner".

"And that upsets you".

"No. Yes. I DON'T KNOW! I had forgotten about him".

Viktor laughs and I look up; Katsudon is staring daggers at him, so he falls silent, covering his mouth.

"Sorry... I thought it was obvious for all of us that you hadn't...?"

Of course I haven't.

"How could I have?" I slouch, feeling the pig's arm way to heavy on my shoulders. "But he has".

"I don't think he has" Katsuki's voice is just above a whisper. "I think he has chosen Mila for a reason. He's not doing well in the single category lately is he?" I shake my head. It's not a secret that I stalk him. Yuuri smiles. "He's gonna try something new and from all the girls in the world, he's chosen the one who'd lead him to you".

If it had been Viktor telling me that I would have kicked his mouth. But Katsuki Yuuri has a different gift. He is able to say reasonable things and, even if they aren't reasonable, he makes you believe they are. Maybe that's how he tricked Viktor into being his fiancé.

"Y-You really think so?"

He shrugs, and his eyes shine behind his glasses.

"I don't know, but it looks like it."

I shake my head and look down.

Suddenly, I know what I have to do.

A small smirk finds its way to my lips and I get up, clenching my fists.

"Then I need to talk Mila into pair skating with him".


	6. St Petersburg

I

cannot

concentrate.

How can I? First, there's Mila's stupid blush. Someone explain it to me. Then, there is the imminent threat - wait, should I call it a threat? - that stupid Otabek shows up at the rink. Because oh, mystery. He's always been the mysterious type, doing stuff in secrecy and surprising others.

Uhm... Always? Always for me, regarding Otabek, means the last two years. Because honestly, I didn't know him before 2016. And after... Meh. After either.

But I've made myself believe he is, so... I can blame everything on him, and my conscience can be at ease.

Sorta.

I can hear Yakov's grunt echo through the rink and I don't need to be a genius to know it is because my landing has been sloppy. This one and the previous one. And the one before that. I'm nailing it aren't I?

"Yuratchka!"

Just in case someone has been doubting who was making a mess of his practice.

"Sorry!" I yell immediately back. I prepare myself for the scolding, keeping my gaze down as I skate to the railing. I can also use a break. Some water. Someone knocking me out and rewiring me, please?

"Sorry" I say again when I look up at my coach. "I know I'm not focused. You don't need to tell me".

He's upset. He's glaring down at me, his arms crossed over his chest. But I hold his gaze, like I've always had. I even scowl at him - isn't it embarrassing enough that I am messing simple jumps up in front of the whole team that he has to scold me in front of everyone as well.

"I've talked to Mila".

My eyes widen and I grip on the railing for dear life. I need something that keeps me anchored to reality.

"So?"

I know, and so does he. I can't even wait for him to form the words.

"Has she said yes?"

Yakov blinks, momentarily caught off guard. And that simple gesture gives me the clue that we are not talking about the same stuff here. So I turn my head around to look at Mila, who doesn't seem to be disturbed in the slightest. She does a pirouette and a step sequence while my thoughts swirl way too fast for me to grasp their meaning. Only Yakov clearing his throat makes me take my eyes off her and return to the old man.

"What are we talking about here?"

"About the fact that you've been trying to convince her to pair skate?"

I shrug.

"I might have".

"May I ask why?"

I shrug again and allow myself a small smirk. Are we playing a game here? Let's play.

"Because she's never won anything important competing single. Blame the skater or the coach, but maybe she could use a change".

I'm playing with fire, so what?

Yakov is staring daggers at me.

"Watch your words, kid".

I roll my eyes.

"Thank you for the break, Yakov". I hang over the railing to grab my bag, pull it close, and take the bottle of water out of it. "It's been refreshing". I drink from the bottle and toss it on top of my bag again.

Only when I skate off he talks again.

"She's agreed, by the way".

I smirk and lift my hands in the air, just to start my short program again.

I guess I just need to worry about Mila's blush, then.

Constantly about to have a heart attack. That is how I live now.

There is a feeling which is hard to describe living with me at all times now, lurking in my stomach, ready to reach out to my lungs and leave me out of breath. It's as if... I were living in a ferris wheel cabin.

Because any day now, Yakov can tell us when our new rink mate could be arriving.

I hold my breath every morning when they arrive, and let all the air in my lungs out the next minute, when his icy stare falls onto me and there are no news. Then Mila giggles and shakes her red curls; Viktor gives me a dreamy look with an annoying 'aaaaaaw' and the pig flashes a sympathetic smile at me. I have a glare prepared for each one of them.

The exact same thing happens every day. During a week. Until, eventually, I relax.

The constant knot in my stomach loosens up and I start my routine all over again. Angry at myself. For giving in again. For picturing him crossing that door. For letting him slip into my mind. For daydreaming.

I have just closed the front door to my apartment and left everything on the living room table when I hear my phone buzz against it. At least three times. A smile comes to my lips as I immediately think of Grandpa. Again trying to call me and hanging up too early, in case he is interrupting some practice. No matter how many times I tell him my timetable - or how big the one on his fridge is-, he'll never get it right.

I grab the phone as I lay down on the couch, blow my bangs off my face and unlock the homescreen.

My smile fades. I feel anger boil in my veins, almost explode in my head. My ears start ringing and I feel hot tears in my eyes.

With a growl that makes my throat feel sore the next second I jump to my feet and throw the phone against the wall.

It crashes against it and falls to the floor. The screen is black. But I can't take my eyes off it, as I breathe heavily. The phone might be broken, but I can't delete the messages from my brain.

28 Aug 2018

[18:35] _**Yura. I know you probably don't want to see me but -**_

[18:35] _ **I'm at the Winter Palace, in St Petersburg. I'd pick you up but I have no idea where you live.**_

[18:36] _**We need to talk before I see you tomorrow at the rink... -Beka.**_

The thread had died two years ago and now he had brought it back to life again.

Not in a thousand years could I have expected I was going to react the way I did. All the previous days, almost squealing in anticipation were gone. All the times I had pictured how it would feel when he appeared had nothing to do with what I was feeling at the moment.

There's no joy.

I'm resentful. Mad.

Not willing to talk. Only to punch him. Better now than in public, tomorrow.

I pick up my phone and turn it on, sighing relieved when it works. I shove it in my pocket, grab the keys and fly down the stairs and to the street.

Walking, it would normally take me twenty minutes from home to the Winter Palace. Since apparently I can fly now, I'm at the gates in ten.

Like always, the place is swarming with tourists. But he stands out, of course he does. He's as tall and dark as I can remember or... wait. Maybe not that tall anymore.

He's wearing black jeans and a leather jacket, and he's leaning against his bike. It could be a random street in Barcelona, but no, he is there, in my city, in front of the gates of the Winter Palace. A picture out of place and time.

I skid to a stop; my chest going up and down while I gasp for air. It's a good thing I've stopped; otherwise, I would have run up to him straight away and kicked his face. No kidding. But I wait, a hand on my chest, trying to make my heart beat at its normal pace until he notices me.

His stare is as deep and dark as I remember. His eyebrows are drawn together, and there isn't even a hint of a smile. Just like me. Our expressions are probably looking the same. I'm walking towards him; a thousand thoughts coming together in my mind, looking desperately for something to say.

I don't have to look up at him anymore. I'm as tall as he is. His hands are in his pockets, while my arms are resting at both my sides; one of my hands still gripping the phone.

"You've grown, Yura".

"Don't call me that".

I wince at my own words.

He nods.

"Would you mind if I take you for a ride?"

I shrug.

He gestures towards the bike.

"Just hear me out, and then we can do whatever you want."

I merely follow him. When he puts a helmet in my hands I take my eyes off him to look at the object. It has leopard print on both its sides. I want to knock him dead with it. Or at least, my brain does. My heart, on the other side, skips a beat and starts pounding as if I never recovered from my sprint.

There go his abilities again. The minute the engine of the bike springs to life, I'm travelling in time. And before I can help myself my arms are firmly wrapped around his waist, the cool air of St Petersburg is messing with my hair and I close my eyes to relive a very different ride we both took on the other side of Europe.


	7. The ice to my fire

"Your hair looks soft".

We are on Vasilievsky Island, watching the Neva river. His bike at our backs, he standing next to me, my hands clenched around a mug of steaming coffee.

I grit my teeth at his random comment. But when he moves his hand, I'm ready. I move faster and grab his wrist before his fingertips can caress my hair.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

He doesn't back away, I glare into his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Yura".

"Don't call -"

His lips on mine make me fall silent. My eyes widen and all the alarms in my brain go off. I shove him off, my face red. The coffee hits the floor and stains my shoes.

"Who do you think you are?!" I shout at him. I don't care if the whole island is looking in our direction, I don't even give a thought to the fact if they are able to understand me or not. "Do you think you can just come here after two years of silence and kiss me? I was fifteen, Otabek! You were my fucking first kiss and you vanished into thin air leaving just a lame note behind!"

"I know"

How can he be so calm? I should slap him.

So I do.

It echoes, and I can notice some red marks on his cheek. Not even then does his expression change. He maybe frowns a bit more. But that's it. That means that my only option left is to turn around; first, because I'm pretty sure I am on the brink of tears; second, because if I stare into that stoic face for one more second I'll end up slapping him again.

His fingers close around my forearm, dammit, he's still stronger and more muscular than I am. I tense up.

"Yuri, please. Let me explain".

"I've been waiting for you to explain yourself for hours now, and all you have done is kiss me. Like you did two years ago, remember?" I turn to him and he winces when my ponytail slashes his cheek. "Remember that night, Otabek? How you decided you were going to be my first kiss? Do you remember it? Because I haven't stopped thinking about it ever since". I pull away from his grip and wipe my eyes quickly before he notices the small tears forming.

He holds both my arms this time, firmly. There come his soothing abilities too. Like a wave of energy, they come from the palm of his hands and penetrate my body, sending soothing signals towards my brain, calming my short temper. The ice to my fire. My cheeks still feel hot but I can look into his eyes now without spitting on his face. That's a good change.

After a moment I'm just letting him hold me.

"I had to change my tickets in the last minute; I got a call in the middle of the night. My father was sick and - well, he's usually delicate. So I decided to run. And to leave you that note".

"Where you didn't explain anything".

"I did explain some things. I explained what had kept me awake until my phone rang and I had to take an earlier flight. I didn't lie".

"Weak excuses, Otabek. None of that made sense".

"It did to me".

He pushes me back and stares into my eyes, dead serious.

"What would you have done then, huh? Would you have left your rink, your country and your grandpa to come with me to Almaty?".

"Yes". I puff my cheeks, stubborn. He knows I wouldn't have. I know so too. That's why he raises his eyebrows and rolls his eyes.

"And I knew I couldn't stay in Russia with you. I had fought so hard to achieve what I had that-"

I scoff to interrupt him.

"I get it. Your career was more important than me. However, you plummeted and never made it to the finals again. Why?"

This is the first time I see him hesitate, look down. He looks vulnerable, defeated. Embarrassed? I can't tell, really. Not because I'm not good at reading emotions, but because I haven't seen him display many of them.

"I was... Afraid of seeing you. I was sure I wasn't going to be able to look at you in the eye. I wasn't going to stand your reproachful gaze. And as time went by it got more and more difficult."

My heart could have just stopped a minute ago and I wouldn't have noticed.

He practically quit because of me. All he had wanted to avoid running like a coward to Almaty had turned against him. When I am fully aware of what I'm doing, my hands have cupped his cheeks and tipped his head up so he would look at me. My mind is struggling to find encouraging words. Whatever that is he's feeling, I don't want him to feel it ever again.

He does something similar to a smile, but I can't be sure. So I kinda return the gesture, finally ready to let out those encouraging words.

"Why didn't you reply to the texts, then?" I think I have pointed this out already. That's me. Thinking one thing and saying another.

He sighs and places his hands on my wrists, so I slowly lower my arms, away from his face.

"I don't have an explanation for that".

"You know what, it's ok. I've heard you out, that's what you wanted. You don't have an explanation for your missing texts, you have more or less lame excuses for the rest. You have apologized. But I still don't know what you're looking for". I cross my arms, visibly relaxed this time. I control the situation. "You suddenly decide to go into pair skating. You choose, from all the women in the world, my rink mate. You appear here and the first thing you do is contact me. The second, you kiss me. And I suppose you expected me to fall into your arms helplessly, like the Fairy I am?"

His smile is not beautiful, but it has special abilities too. It makes my legs weak.

"If there's something you are not, Yuri Plisetsky, is a fairy. But I see where you are going. I decided to go pair skating because I don't want to leave the ice. The single category is far from my reach, I needed to reinvent myself. And I chose Mila because she is your rink mate. So I could conquer my fears and meet you again, and beg for a second opportunity".

I nod. And stare into his eyes. Then nod again. He sighs loudly, I'm not sure if he is frustrated or losing every bit of patience he had left.

"I'm wasting my time aren't I?"

I smirk brightly.

"I wouldn't say that, Beka. Mila is a very good skater. I'm sure you two can make history in pair skating".


	8. Pair Skating

It's an easy move, really.

Losers say ballet is not useful, but here I am, the exception to it, using it like a martial art. Ha.

It really is like a pirouette. You put all your weigh on your right foot, stand on your toes and then spin really fast, stretching your left leg out. Before they know it, you've kicked them, really hard. It hurts. I know. I've seen their faces. Ah, joyous relief.

Shame I don't have my knife shoes on.

Blood. I wanna see blood dripping from Viktor's side.

(Ssh. I know I'm exaggerating. But a boy can dream, right?)

For now I have to do with Viktor's puzzled expression, his frown, and his hand rubbing his side, right where I've hit him.

"What!" He snaps and as he turns to face me, I have already prepared my most fierce glare.

"He talked to you before coming. To you both" Why do I even bother to make clear the pig is included here. They are two parts of the same unit. Always standing next to each other. When was the last time I had a conversation alone with Viktor? Three years ago?

"He did?" Sometimes I really can't tell when he's being genuinely forgetful and when he's being a jerk. That's when I look over to katsudon. If he face palms, rolls his eyes and offers an explanation, his boyfriend has forgotten all about the matter. If he gets nervous, his eyes go from Viktor to me and back to Viktor thinking hard about how to buy some time, Viktor is being a jerk. Confirmed. I need to corner the pig.

"Katsudon? Anything to tell me?" He never gets deceived by my fake conciliatory tone. But he takes a step back, ready to look for shelter behind his lover's back.

"Uh... well..." He lowers his gaze as I take a step towards them. Viktor gasps and puts an arm in front of him, as a barrier for me not to come closer.

"Don't give in, Yuuri-kun! He's trying to play mind tricks on you!"

I swear - Where are my knife shoes.

"Shut up, Viktor" I hit his arm so I can grab Katsuki by the collar of his t-shirt and pull him close.

"You were saying, pig...?"

He pushes his glasses up and looks down, fiddling with his fingers.

"Of course he called us. He was scared"

My eyes widen, of course. I even loosen my grip on his t-shirt. I could have expected so many reasons: he being unsure about his life deicision. Reluctant to move, and therefore wanting someone to praise St Petersburg. But... scared? Of what, exactly?

"Oh..." I let go of the pig, and he immediately puts a hand on my shoulder, so I move away from him.

"Are you ok?"

I scoff.

"Of course I'm ok. Did he mention what he was scared of?"

Viktor chuckles under his breath.

"Of your reaction, of course. Have you yelled at him yet? Kicked him?"

I turn to him, ready to jump at his throat, so the pig stands in the middle.

"Look, Yurio... He didn't know how Yakov would take the news. You know he can be pretty scary. And you... he was a bit concerned about you not taking the news so well so... he asked us to... Talk to you first".

I nod and he takes a deep breath.

"That's why we only told him to come when we saw you didn't flip out".

Flip out. I guess I earned my fame huh? Ain't I good at that :3

I squint at them and I can sense how the pig tenses up, ready for my next rant. Which won't come, because I can feel Yakov staring daggers at me, so I turn to my left. My intention was obviously to snap at him instead. But I can't either, because the new student is standing by his side. His hair styled back. His stare almost blank, his arms crossed over his chest. Loose black pants and a tank top; black gloves. Stupid Beka, why does he have to be so attractive.

And why does it have to be so hot in a damned ice rink?!

I skate off as quickly as I can. I don't need Yakov to introduce him to me.

Let me talk about my contradictions.

I'm so freaking mad at Otabek Altin. So mad it's getting visceral and therefore, I'm not sure where is the reason any more. He did have his reasons to leave the way he did - questionable, right, I don't agree with them, so damn right - but his reasons after all. What I mean is, it is getting more a habit than a real actual state of mind.

But... If I am so mad, and when I'm mad I don't want the subject of my nightmares to stick around... Why does it annoy me so much that he ignores me after training? I must admit that after we visited Vasiliesky Island, I had butterflies messing around in my stomach. I had, of course, decided to play a little bit with him, just so it was clear to him that I wasn't so easy to get. That I have my pride. That his leaving me wasn't going to be so easy to forget.

And then, right after training, when I have decided not to listen to my pride screaming in my ear and gathered the courage to ask him out to spend the evening together, he ignores me. So flagrantly.

His eyes only move away from Mila for a split second when he feels I'm approaching. Then they are back on her.

And I can tell she's flirting.

So shamelessly I wanna slap her.

Yeah, their conversation is about skating. She is mainly brainstorming ideas about themes, pirouettes, jumps, whatever. And he's just looking at her, without moving or giving any ideas. She touches her hair, flips it.

I turn around, pick up my bag and leave. Of course I make sure the door closes with a bang. Like always, I can't keep this kind of stuff in. They will end up destroying me. So I look for a comfortable bench outside of the rink, pull the collar of my jacket up to conceal the wind and start typing on my phone.

29 Aug 2018

[17:04] _I hope you know what you are doing. Because if your clever plan is to try to make me jealous - you'd know why though, as if I'd care - or to hurt me, just know that I am one or two steps ahead._

[17:04] _I don't give a fuck about you, Otabek Altin. And if you're gonna stay, so be it, just don't talk to me. Talk to your beloved Mila._

[17:05] _And leave me alone._

[17:05] _You lied to me once you can lie twice can't you?_

[17:09] _Bah, forget it._

[17:14] _Bye._


	9. Let us stroll

29 Aug 2018

[17:54] _ **What the hell are you talking about?**_

[17:58] _Do you want me to rephrase it?_

[17:58] _ **Don't be ironic with me, Yura.**_

[18:01] _I told you not to call me that. And to leave me alone._

[18:01] _ **I'm coming to get you, this is going too far.**_

[18:02] _You don't know where I live, you asshole._

[18:02] _ **Mila told me.**_

[18:02] _Again, go fuck your beloved Mila._

[18:03] _ **You know very well who I'd like to fuck.**_

[18:11] _..._

[18:11] _ **Exactly.**_

So when at twenty past six someone knocks on my door, I don't open. I drag my feet to the door and scream at it.

"I said I didn't want you here!"

"Open the door, Yura, or I swear to God I'll kick it down!"

I know he would. Or would he? I smirk.

"Oh, I would love to see you tr- WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

The whole door has shaken with the first kick. I open up quickly, before I have half of my neighbors at my door and I have to pay for a new one.

"Are you out of your mind?" I below at him and he grabs my wrists, making me struggle. With another kick, he slams the door closed behind him. Right, so someone has been practicing some dancing again. Ha. Loser.

"I wasn't, but you're making me" He replies, dead serious.I stop struggling immediately and scowl at him.

"You better have a good explanation..."

"I do. Apparently all you want from me are explanations".

"Maybe if you stopped acting like a lunatic..."

"Shut up, Yura".

"Make me".

By that time, his lips are only inches away from mine. Before I can utter the last word, he has closed the gap and kissed me, my eyes close tightly against my will. How am I so weak? And why have I been craving this so much? He knows what he's doing, that bastard. He moves his lips against mine while he has me pinned by my wrists. But I have given in already. I want him. My body wants him. I part my lips with a sighand his warm tongue finds its way into my mouth. How different this kiss is. How very different from the soft peck we shared two years ago. How different from anything my imagination has tried to summon while missing him during all this time.

My mind plays a different game though. It is determined to show me every single reason why I should be shoving him off me.

The note. The empty room.

All the tears during the first months.

All the doubts. All the remorse.

And more recently...

Every single word he's told me. His decision of retiring from single competitions because of me.

Fear.

He was scared of me.

Mila, talking to him.

Mila, blushing.

His hands around Mila's hips.

The soft moan that escapes my lips makes me turn back to reality. He's freed my wrists and my hands have managed somehow to grip his hair, while his lips have travelled to my neck. And I'm losing control over my own body.

"Beka..."

"Mmmh...?"

"I don't want this".

My whole body screams, it's not exactly agreeing with my words.

"You don't?" There is disappointment in his voice. Sadness, maybe. I shake my head, breathing heavily when he pulls away from me. Without his body against mine, I feel cold. Shivers. I have to hug myself.

I hear him huff and I look up, to see him brush his hair back, run a hand down his face, trying to keep his cool. I guess only I can make the stoic and expressionless Otabek Altin lose it. Should I be proud of it?

"Then why do you get jealous, huh? Why did you send those texts? Why are you being a pain if you don't want this?"

He's never shouted at me. Where are my instincts now, my infallible temper, the one who is able to hurt without insulting? Why am I feeling so small, huddled up against the wall, hugging myself?

Oh, there.

I take a deep breath and glare at him.

"I don't want it like this! I don't want you bursting into my apartment and forcing yourself upon me! I want to go on a fucking date with you, Otabek! I want you to ask me out properly, not to steal my kisses!".

He stares at me for a long while. And all I do is stare back.

After what feels like ages he sighs and looks down, but I don't move.

"You're right" He mutters, at last. Then it's my turn to sigh.

"There is... A park near here..." My voice is only a whisper, but I see him nod, so I guess he's heard me. He offers me his hand and I take it swiftly.

"Let's go for a walk then".

I smile and push my hair behind my ear.

"Of course".


	10. Dates

Awkward silence. I hadn't realized before this was one of my worst nightmares.

Although if I reason it, it might not be awkward silence what I dread. It is... Awkward silence with him. Because if I think about it carefully, there wasn't such a thing when we were in Barcelona two years ago. There was silence, but it was never awkward.

So... What is happening?

Am I overthinking?

I check my phone. He's been quiet for ten minutes already. But so have I... Right?

Is he bored?

Is he overthinking as well?

I glance at him, but what on Earth do I want to guess from that. His face is calm and contained, he's looking ahead, at the dirt road before us.

Is there anything interesting there?

Oh, for heaven's sake, there is.

"Look!" I shout, as if I had seen the most wonderful thing in the world just in front of our eyes. I'm pretty sure he's flinched. "The lake is there!"

"Yeah... Oh, you want to feed the ducks?"

I blush.

Do I? I haven't cared about ducks or bread crumbs in my whole life. But finally, he's said something.

"Uh... I don't mind. Do you?"

He shrugs.

"Yeah, why not. If that makes you happy"

"It doesn't" I breathe in. "But at least there's no awkward silence between us now".

He tilts his head to the side.

"Awkward...? It wasn't being awkward for me..." There is a quick glance in my direction, but I decide not to pay attention to it. Because that says a lot, actually. He's not uncomfortable around me, no matter if we talk or not. But I... I am not so sure about it. I bite my lip and look down, walking towards the lake only because I'm really feeling the urge to do something, think about something else and stop feeling this nervous.

But... nervous is good, isn't it?

Before I can even step onto the grass surrounding the small lake, his hand slips into mine. And as if my hand had been waiting for that moment to happen for years without end, my fingers lace with his so naturally it feels unreal.

I look up at him, surprised to find a hint of a smile curving his lips.

"What, is this awkward too?"

"No..." I admit in a whisper.

"And... aren't we supposed to do stuff like this if we are on a date?"

I roll my eyes and smile; isn't he cheeky.

"Oh, are we on a date, then?"

"I'm just making your wishes come true"

How very cheeky. My smile fades to be replaced by a frown.

"Don't push it, Altin. You're not all I wish for".

He tugs on my hand, almost making me stumble.

"I know. But I am the only wish you can't get on your own. You need my help there... don't you?"

"Shut up".

For further references, I better admit now that when I say 'shut up', around ninety five per cent of the time, it means that I have no idea how to retort and I stubbornly refuse to let the other win any kind of argument.

Apparently he already knows that, since there is an actual smile on his face now.

I must point out that Otabek looks really handsome when he smiles. I think I've only seen his real smile three or four times. It's like a shooting star: it only lasts about a split second. But even in such a short time, it manages to make your heart flutter.

I gasp when he flops down on the grass next to me, without letting go of me, so I'm forced to sit next to him. I immediately pull my hand out of his grasp to hug my knees, looking at the lake. I'm about to say something when he wraps his arm around my shoulder, and that simple gesture makes me close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder. I still can hear the ducks in the distance, but who cares about feeding them anyway.

"So, Yuri...". I open my eyes to look at him, but from my position I can only see his jawline.

"Mmh...?"

He takes a deep breath. Oh, maybe he's nervous. For some reason that makes me strangely happy.

"So... If I've understood it correctly... If we do everything like it's meant to be done... You will actually... or... we will actually... have a chance?" His hazelnut eyes shift quickly to the side, to look at me. "I mean... A chance of being together... As a -"

I put a finger on his lips to make him fall silent. He better stop talking before he hurts himself. I feel my cheeks heating up but I have no idea if there is a blush to be seen.

"That's exactly what I meant".

I sit up and look at him, frantically looking for my anger, for my doubts, for all the bad thoughts and the hard feelings I've been having about him during this past two years. Where have they gone to?

Maybe this is really the time to let go and start from the scratch.

I touch his cheek gently and look at his lips. I know his eyes are on me but I ignore it. Only his lips matter now. When mine find them, it finally feels right. No surprise, no stolen kisses. No force.

His arms pull me slightly closer and I give in, melting into the kiss.


	11. Don't call it dance

His hands look really strong. It's funny how I haven't noticed before. I guess I have always been too busy focusing on his eyes and making titanic efforts to see a change in his expressions.

Today it's his hands' turn.

Which, by the way, are nowhere near me.

I glide through the ice, sideways, sipping on my water through the plastic straw. Keeping an eye on them. Squinting at them. Assessing their every move.

"It tickles!" Mila lets out between giggles, because his hands are on her waist. I squeeze the bottle and feel water up my nose, what makes me cough. I'm forced to stop and gasp for air, and the moment that happens, I feel a hand patting my back.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah... Fine" I slap Katsuki's hand off and keep gliding sideways, describing a wide circle around the pair skaters. But the pig follows me, glancing from me to them, then back to me.

"Are you... spying on them?"

"Am I hiding?"

"No".

"There. That's your answer."

He keeps silent for two more laps, until he starts getting uncomfortable. I notice it because he brushes his hair back multiple times, he clears his throat once or twice and because he starts smiling awkwardly, looking down, at them, at me.

"Get lost, pig" I sip my water loudly, just not to hear Mila's giggles. Thank goodness Otabek looks lost and as if he was trying to understand the reason of so much laughter.

The piglet mumbles something butI can't hear it either. He bumps into me because I stop, he quickly apologizes but I just ignore him. I close one eye. My aim is usually good. Breathe in. Out. Throw.

I hit Mila's head with the bottle, shame it's half empty. Enough to make her scream, and to make her partner shoot a glare in my direction. I glare that I hold, crossing my arms.

"Fight me" I mouth the words and stand my ground when he turns slowly to face me. My eyes widen when he skates towards me; God, can he get scary. I skate backwards out of sheer surprise. His eyes glow and I pick up speed, he can't be faster than me, even though I haven't turned around. The rink becomes a blur. I take a glimpse of Mila's red hair, and I hear her blurt out all kind of swear words.

And that bastard is catching up. Or am I letting him?

His hand grips my wrist and I look down at it startled. It is as strong as it looked. My eyes look for his and I realize then that I'm holding my breath. My hair prevents me from seeing him clearly, but I can almost swear he is smirking.

I have let him catch up. I'm sure now.

"Are you jealous, Yura?"

He's done it again. We are still gliding on the ice, but the time has stopped again and even if I tried I couldn't find any trace of the people that were at the rink minutes ago. There is only him, but I am not going to let him deceive me with his magic tricks.

"I'm not jealous"

Why does my voice sound so weak?

He's closer by the minute, and I realize he is pushing me backwards, so I'm making absolutely no effort to keep skating.

"Do you want me to show everyone you're mine?"

"No"

I've regained some strength, thank goodness. Not enough to shake him off, but at least I can send some signals to him by squeezing his forearms. Nice ones, by the way. I wonder if he actually works out - besides trainings, of course.

I flinch slightly when I feeel the railing at my back; my hair falls back on its place and now I have to look at him through it.

"I said no, Beka. No is no, you know that"

His small smirk disappears when he notices a hand on his shoulder. My heart skips a beat when I look at Mila. Not because I want to keep anything of what's going on between the Kazakh and me secret, but because of the lovestruck expression she's wearing.

"Leave him be, Otabek. He didn't hurt me, I promise."

What wouldn't I give to have Otabek's puzzled expression printed on a t-shirt.

"Huh?" He glances at me and now it's my time to smirk as I push him gently off.

"Were you going to hurt me, Otabek?" I chirp, gliding sideways again.

"With all I've got" He rasps, frowning at me. Mila steps in the middle and takes Otabek's hands. She has turned her back on me, but he is still facing me, so I can make sure he sees how I flip my hair, point at Mila and give him the finger. By then, she's taking him away already, but he is squinting at me.

Jealous. Ha.

That boy is mine.

Even though I make the effort not to think about them or pay attention to what they are doing, I can feel his gaze on me. That makes me smile, but I wouldn't let it show. I start my choreography, the music blasting through my ears and blocking Mila's giggles. Much better. Much more relaxed.

As relaxing as turns, spins and jumps can be. But the world is muffled now and all I can feel and hear is my breath, my heart.

"Hey! We haven't finished!"

Mila's voice makes me open my eyes, and I wait for the anger to come. At her, for popping my bubble.

But there's no time. His hands are on my waist and his face only inches away from mine. He moves his lips saying something, but the music hasn't stopped so I can't hear.

"What?!" I take the earphones out and place an arm arond his neck, since he's spinning with me a bit too quickly and I need balance.

"She has no idea how to dance".

I smirk.

"I know".

"Shall we show her?"

"I don't see why not"

I let out a chuckle as he lifts me by my hips and when I land again I take his hands to twirl, the ice getting blurry again, and stopping the time once more.


	12. Mine, mine, mine

You can't call everything on the ice "dance".

But I have to admit they are getting better with each training.

And I'm getting used to having them around, so I can focus again on my goal: I need to win the gold again this year. Whether Beka is my guest of honor or not, it shouldn't matter. I've always had my goals pretty clear, and nothing - and nobody - is going to take my mind off them.

"Yuuuurioooooo!"

I turn around, unamused.

"What do you want, Viiiiiiiiktoooooooooor?"

He cracks up, stupid old man. I blush furiously when Otabek raises his eyebrows at me, standing next to Viktor. I shrug it off with a quiet huff, and since the Russian legend can't stop laughing, his everlasting fiancé steps up.

"We've been thinking about going out...? All of us?"

I look around.

"Who is all of us?"

If Mila's coming, and Beka is too, I'm totally in. If not, I'll decline.

"All... Of us" Katsuki looks around, so I guess that includes Mila and Georgi.

"Is Yakov coming too?" Just when Viktor was recovering, another laughing fit seizes him. I roll my eyes. Never knew I had such a comic side.

Katsudon allows himself a small smile.

"No". My eyes shift to Otabek when I hear him huff.

"Come on, Yura. Don't play hard to get. Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Jeez, I just wanted some information before agreeing to spend the evening with these losers".

"Be nice" He squints at me.

"Shut up". And I hurry off, to the locker room to get changed. Who does he think he is now, my father?

Everyone is so happy and having such a good time. But I'm squeezed between Otabek and Mila because I'm stubborn like hell and I wasn't going to let them share the bench at the cafe. Actually no, she is the stubborn one. She is the one who sat next to me even though I was there first. So I ended up against Otabek's side; not that I cared. No room to move, but that's the price you have to pay if you want to win.

However, she's happily ignoring me. Which is really weird, since I'm no longer a small kid. I mean, my head is right in the middle. She has to bend forward to avoid me and talk to Beka. I suppose everyone's getting that my red cheeks mean I'm about to explode and start throwing plates against the windows, not that I'm cutely embarrassed because Otabek and I are so close.

Everyone except her, of course.

In front of me, Katsuki is comfortably seated next to the love of his life and eating in a hurry, as if someone was going to steal his carrot pie from his plate. Stress eating, if you ask me. His eyes meet mine a thousand times between bites, and I can swear he's sweating. Viktor is holding back his laughter and trying to keep a casual conversation with Otabek, which Mila keeps interrupting with stupid comments and/or giggles. Can this woman get any more obvious and obnoxious?

"So... Beka... Have you found and apartment yet...? I have a spare room, you know?" She flips her red hair back and I choke on my coffee.

Excuse me. Beka? It's OTABEK for you, bitch.

And what the hell, a spare room?

I feel Otabek taking a breath to answer her question, but I turn to her abruptly before he does so, and instead of an answer, he breathes out my name.

"Yura..."

I turn to him then, and moving as I can in such a reduced space, I grip his shirt and pull him into a rough kiss.

There is silence. A silence so thick you could cut it with a knife.

And then someone gasps, somebody slaps a hand over a mouth. And that makes me realize what I have just done in front of everyone. I guess they are waiting for me to say something, but when I pull back I merely stare into Otabek's eyes. And he stares back into mine, a sly smirk forming in his lips.

"It was about time".

I slowly turn to Mila, who is looking at us as if she'd just seen an alien. It's my turn to flip my hair back.

Tsk.

I'm a champion. I always win.

"I saw you couldn't take a hint, granny"

"Oh my God" she lets out, still staring at me with a puzzled expression.

Joy. Triumph. Gold medal to me, ha.

I sip on my coffee casually, as if nothing had happened, but my heart is still ringing in my ears and my cheeks are still burning. But I'm so proud of myself.

At some point I must have forgotten Mila Babicheva is also a champion. But she reminds me when she leans closer and lowers her voice to a whisper only I can hear.

"Challenge accepted, kiddo".

Otabek seems in the mood to bring up the incident at least six times as we walk back home. We are holding hands and that earns us quite a few disapproving looks as we walk down the crowded avenue heading towards my apartment. However, I ignore his attempts, since I'm not ready to label our relationship.

What are we?

I honestly have no idea. But I'm totally aware we are no longer friends. Or at least... not regular friends.

Is he my boyfriend? How many dates do you need to consider someone your boyfriend? Or how many kisses need to be given? Or how many hours do you need to spend together? Is there a rule? I'll ask Google when we get home.

But suddenly he says something that makes me want to bring up the incident myself. Something about room service.

"Hey" I interrupt him. "If it's true you are looking for a place to stay I also have a spare room".

He looks at me carefully, his eyebrows raised. Thinking? Trying to guess if I'm joking?

"Seriously?"

"You've seen my apartment. You know there is a spare room".

He pulls on my hand.

"I mean if you seriously want me to live with you"

I blink.

"Well I certainly don't want you to live with her"

"Oh..." He looks disappointed. "So it's just a kind of revenge?"

I huff. What a couple of overthinkers we are. Wait, are we a couple?

Hum.

"No, Beka. I genuinely want you to live with me."

I stop when we reach my building. There is a familiar car parked outside. I might have to take my offer back, just when he is starting to get excited.

"Uhm... hold on..." I point at the car when he gives me a questioning look. "That's grandpa's car."

Ain't he going to be surprised.


	13. Confidence

Confidence: a feeling of self-assurance arising from an appreciation of one's own abilities or qualities.

That's what I thought one of Otabek Altin's most admirable qualities was. I guess I was wrong. Not saying he is not confident. Just saying that when he needed to get ahold of it and use it, it vanished. Because he backed up and stammered like a little child.

"Your… your grandpa huh? Like the one who…"

"I only have one grandpa, Otabek" I raise my eyebrows. Come on, I was supposed to be the one being nervous. Not him. He was supposed to take a deep breath, flash a reassuring smile at me, take my hand and say something like "Don't worry Yura, we got this". In a deep sexy tone.

But.

No.

He's leaving. Or fleeing, not sure.

"Beka…?"

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

I scoff.

"Oh, for the love of God, pull yourself together! He knows about you!"

I swear he's going pale.

"W-what does he… know?"

I cross my arms, ready to decide that the guy in front of me is an impersonator.

But let me tell you about 'the spark'. 'The spark' is what I call that strange churn in my stomach that appears when I'm about to snap. It's like the backstage to my rage, the little trigger that gets pulled and then war starts. 'The spark' has different intensities, and there's no way to foresee its outcome. It can bloom and die, or it can explode like fireworks, burning the land around me in all directions. And right now, that spark is burning inside of me, has set my stomach and surrounding organs on fire and my cheeks are glowing with the reflection of it. Then is when I realize he knows me better than I dare to imagine, for he retreats, lifts his hands in self-defense and starts to mumble some sort of apology.

"No, wait, Yuri, what I mean is…"

Note: when 'the spark' manages to set some kind of fire anywhere in my body, the outcome is always the same. I flip and start yelling. Or hitting things. Or people.

"I'll tell you what you mean! You mean that you are not ready to meet him, because you are not sure of how big of a commitment you want to have with me! Why would you settle just to have me when you can carry on flirting with Mila, and with any other person who comes your way! You're such a –" I cut myself off because he's grabbed my wrists and I have to concentrate on staring daggers at his hands, as if I could burn them to ashes. "LET GO!"

I struggle to break free but his grasp only turns tighter.

"I'm not going to let go until you calm down and listen".

I keep struggling. He may be convincing, but I'm stubborn as hell. As his hands don't move an inch, I kick his shin, he yelps and loosens his grip on me. When I'm about to make a beeline for the door, he grips my jacket and pulls me back.

"You're not just walking away from this!"

I blink. Funny thing is, I'm more than used to getting everything my way the minute I snap. People tend to be scared of my temper, and just to avoid a confrontation, they would just let me do whatever I please. Yeah, later they would call me all kind of names, starting with 'spoilt kid' and finishing with 'tyrant'. But I just don't care.

However, he is the only one who has, so far, confronted me, using the exact same tone I've used with him. Which makes me stare at him in awe; the situation is unprecedented and I don't know how to proceed. But, like always, he does. His stupid calming aura gets wratpped around me when he pulls me close and into a hug.

His heart is beating at a normal pace, unlike mine.

"Okay… better?"

I hear his voice through his chest as well, and I close my eyes tight. I guess that's the water to my fire.

"Look, Yura… " He strokes my hair soothingly before slowly pushing me off his chest. I pout. It was cozy there. Cozy and safe. "I'm going to try and guess from your reaction that your grandpa only knows the basics about me".

I nod. But I also blush.

"Well, actually… " I take a deep breath and look down. "I can't be sure of how much he knows. But I did tell him about you, after you stopped answering my messages. I was so upset and… As I am not even sure about how I felt about you, I believe my complaints weren't only like those you make about a friend…." I have to admit, he looks kind of terrified. " And well… He isn't stupid".

He nods with a blank stare; have I broken him?

"Beka?"

"So he probably hates me" The blank stare focuses on me, more or less. It's as if he was seeing through me. That makes me frown.

"Hey" I grip his chin and make him focus on me. "He also knows the other side of the story. He knows that you've come back and that you are staying here".

I honestly prefer the blank stare. The hint of fear I'm noticing now in his pupils is a bit more unsettling.

"Oh".

"Come". It actually makes no difference if he meets grandpa or not. Our lives would continue to be the same, but I don't like the idea of hiding information from grandpa. Besides, if anything, they are the most important people in my life. If they don't get along, so be it, but at least, I would like them to meet.

I have to tug on his hand to make him follow me up the stairs. He is trembling, and I am pretty sure that if I let go of him, he'll run away and never come back. That's some other ability he has, is it not? Disappearing into thin air and leave me wondering?

Not gonna risk it.

His hand tries to escape mine several times when I pull out the keys.

"Beka… For heaven's sake…" I mumble, my cheeks flushing red. What could have been some random friend introduction, is getting so awkward…

I give him a warning look before opening the door.

And of course, as grandpa gets up from the couch I let go of Otabek's hand. Quickly enough? I don't think so. That man's eyes are sharp. I notice a scowl on his features, so before he can say anything I lunge at him and nearly tackle him into a hug.

"What a nice surprise! How come you are here?"

He smiles at me and pats my back.

"Stop growing up, Yuratchka. This is enough"

I return the smile and, still with one arm around his shoulders, I turn to Otabek, who is frozen by the door.

"Grandpa, this is…"

He holds a hand out towards the Kazakh.

"Otabek Altin. I know. I used to see him compete until he gave up".

Beka flinches, and somehow remembers how to use his body, so he steps forward and shakes grandpa's hand.

"Ni-Nice to meet you, sir".

His stammering makes me roll my eyes and grandpa grin.

Grin.

I panic.

That can be either very good or very bad.

His eyes scan my Kazakh boy and I tighten my grip around his shoulders, as if that could dissuade him from doing so. Then, his eyes meet mine.

"So… are you two dating?"


	14. Confirmation

Some birds chirp outside.

Children shout to each other, and then start running.

My fridge is extremely loud, now that I come to think of it.

Wow, silence is really loud.

"I'll take that as a yes. Awkward silence is always a yes".

I'm about to hide my face behind my hands and try to calm down, when Otabek jumps on his spot and makes me glare at him.

"Of course we are not! No, we aren't, right, Yura?".

Grandpa sits back down on the couch, I'm standing by his side and Beka is still at the door, so the old man has quite a great view of the miserable play that my love life has become.

I squint at the Kazakh, imagining how his head could explode in goo, blood and tiny brain pieces if I manage to stare for enough time.

"We… are not".

I pronounce every word through gritted teeth, so I guess he notices that I am not playing along. I am being serious. Perhaps that is why he gulps and brushes his hair back before lowering his gaze to the floor.

Here it comes.

I'm about to start shouting again; my reason has been turned off and I can only feel anger pulsing against my temples.

So… HE DOESN'T WANT TO BE WITH ME?

Grandpa's hand's on my arm, and I haven't registered when he's gotten up.

"A word, Mr Altin".

He beckons to the kitchen, and Otabek follows, rather wobbling.

Good.

I hope he hits himself against the door before entering. If it's in the head, all the better.

He doesn't meet my eyes, so he can't feel my most fiery glare. That's why I stand there, waiting for him to come back without moving an inch or changing my expression. So he wouldn't miss it.

Those two men in the kitchen are equally quiet. Nobody shouts, nobody sounds pissed, nobody begs for mercy.

But when Otabek comes out he is looking so miserable that I forget about the nice glare I was saving for him. My arms drop at both sides of my body.

"W-what's going on…?"

He simply gives a single nod and makes a beeline for the door. I almost jump over the coffee table to get to him before he leaves. He can't leave me again. Not like this. He can't. I won't let him. I'd rather die this time.

I grab his arm and yank him back.

Why am I not mad, as I should be? Why do I even feel like I could start crying at any time?

This is not the last time I see him, right? I mean… He has to go to training tomorrow. He's not gonna ditch Mila. Is he?

"Beka… Don't… Don't leave…" I manage to breathe out, although I feel my throat closing. I gasp for air and close my eyes when I start seeing dots. His arms are somehow around me, but I can't fully feel them, it is s if my whole body had gone numb.

"I'm not" I hear someone tell me, and I guess it is his voice, because who else would be answering me. "I haven't been waiting for so long to give up just yet. Don't worry"

I try to reply but all I can manage is a strangled breath that sounds a lot like a groan.

"But what did he say?" I finally managed to utter human sounds, right when I feel his arms retreating.

"Nothing that I didn't expect, Yura. He cares about you".

"He does. He does? Wait!"

The door has closed in front of me and I haven't even noticed he's gone.

Why?

And why am I even slamming my fist on the door as if he was the one with the power to open it and let me in?

The hand that is rubbing my back soothingly is none other's than Nikolai Plisetsky's. Someone I could kill right now.

But I can't can I? I mean… Do I really want him to know? Does he already know?

Only because of those questions I don't snap at him, but I turn around calmly. But out of everyone in the world, he is the person who knows me the best.

"Spit it out, Yuratchka. I'm not dumb, but I want to hear it from you".

I let out all the air in my lungs and look down. My heart is beating fast in my ears and I feel my cheeks burn. There are words in my head and I know that at some point I was able to pronounce them and even form sentences. Where that ability is gone to, remains a mystery. So I just breathe; in and out, so I don't die. I'm even surprised that I'm able to stand. His roaring laughter makes me look back at him.

"Come on. A bit of vodka will clear out your mind".

He would have never let me do something like that when I was a child.

I was 16 when I came home heartbroken and feeling like the most miserable human being in the world, and it was only then when he allowed me to have a shot of vodka all for myself. I didn't gulp it down, of course, but I sipped on it while he could down one after the other. But like he told me, I was officially a man right then and for ever.


End file.
